


Highway to heaven and stairway to hell

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hunters are douche bags, I'm sorry I don't know what the fuck is up with the title I just like both of those songs, I'm sorry I'm not good at tags so that's it it guess, So yeah shitty title is shitty but hopefully the story is good, demon!Sam, john is a douche bag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:22:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2530445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Winchester sold his son, Sam, to a crossroads demon for the resurrection of his wife, Mary. When Dean is all grown up and John is dead, he comes across an odd demon named Sam</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sun was a vibrant orange as it was slowly shrouded by the city beyond. The light sky was being engulfed by night the lower it dipped. John Winchester shivered and gripped his upper arms as his eyes darted around the abandoned crossroads anxiously. He had no idea what he was doing. He had gotten an anonymous tip from a blocked number about crossroads being the answer to all of his problems. The smooth voice had given him strict instructions on what to do, but the second he had asked what to expect, the line had disconnected. Maybe he was out of his mind with grief over Mary's death, but here he was. It hadn't taken him long to break either. A week of Mary's frail form not curling under him in bed had been his limit. The only thing keeping him from saying a prayer and ending his life was his boys. He didn't want to leave them orphaned, but he didn't want to live either. 

The grief and loneliness tore at him daily. They fucked with his mind and developed thoughts and ideas he never would have imagined before. He would catch himself fantasizing about slipping a few too many pills in his son's meals and then putting his last use to his gun. Having thoughts about murdering his son's and committing suicide to end their misery was where he drew the line. He was going insane, he had to be. He needed Mary like he needed air and if he had to follow a potential crazy person's nonsense tips, so be it. 

The boy's had been quiet. Dean rarely spoke and almost never made eye contact. He was losing weight too. Sam had been just acting plain odd. Before Mary's death, he would cry for hours and whine when he wasn't held. He giggled and crinkled his small face when he was happy. Now he just stared at everything. He didn't make noise except when he truly needed something. His facial expressions were somehow...calculating. He was a little over six months old, yet he acted like he completely understood the situation and simply didn't care. John continuously told himself that he was being paranoid, a baby obviously wouldn't understand that kind of tragedy. Yet he felt strange around Sam, like the child was...cold, cruel. 

Dean, unlike John, had stuck closer to Sam. He was constantly with the child, always hovering over him. Dean was becoming extremely protective over the strange baby. John snapped himself out of his thoughts, reminding himself, yet again, that Sam was a normal child. Not only that, but HIS child. With an exhausted huff of disappointment John turned and took a step towards his car. "Aww, leaving so soon, John, baby?" A high pitched, sarcastic voice spoke. John spun on his heel to face the blonde woman several feet away from him. She was wearing a tight, red dress, that reached her thighs, and black high heels. Her eyes were narrowed like a predator's and her condescending smirk gave her an air of obvious superiority.

She wiggled her fingers in a giddy wave and strutted closer to him with the other hand resting on her hip. "Hiya, big boy" she winked at him flirtatiously. "I-h-hello" John sputtered nervously. How had this woman gotten here? There was no car in sight. "How did you know my name?" He asked suspiciously. The woman's shark-like grin widened and she slowly ran her tongue over her lips like she was enjoying something delectable. "We've been waiting for you. We knew you'd show after the phone call you got." She informed him in a quiet voice. A shiver ran down John's spine. "Who's "we"?" He demanded with as much harshness he could muster when the woman's eyes penetrated his with such confidence and dark pleasure.

She released a bubbly giggle that raised the hairs on the back of John's neck. "Dear mystery caller didn't tell you? Damn, they really only gave you the bare minimum of info, huh, Johnny?" She uttered casually. She pouted for a moment then tilted her head. She blinked and when her thick eyelashes bounced back up to reveal blood red eyes, John scrambled backwards with a silent scream of terror on his face. "Oh, don't be so dramatic" she whined with a wave of her hand. "What the hell are you?!?" John screamed. The girl blinked and her eyes were blue again. "A demon, dumbass." She said oddly cheerfully. She watched him for a moment. What had John gotten himself into? "So, I'm guessing you want sweet Mary back, yeah?" The demon guessed, getting back to business. She approached him and John froze. He stared disbelievingly as she began drawing patterns into his leather jacket with the blood dripping from her index finger that he had just noticed. She glanced up at him and followed his trail of sight.

"Oh, this is nothing. I was just finishing up with a fun little project when you summoned me" she waved away his concern even though her words chilled him to the bone. John finally found his voice again and noted that it was cracking with fear of the demon. "Yes, I came here for Mary" he answered. The demon trailed her finger up his jacket and along his collar, her eyes avoiding his. "And I will happily resurrect her for you, sweetie....for a price." She bargained with a malicious expression. John raised an eyebrow curiously. "What price?" He asked, his voice finally steadying. He couldn't possibly imagine what a demon would want from him. Did demons get payed in cash? 

She bit her lip innocently and gripped his collar in her thin fingers. Her eyes clicked back to the red and flicked up to meet his. John struggled to move back further, but she held him in his place without much effort. She lifted herself onto the tips of her shoes and pressed her chest against John's. She leaned in and whispered seductively into his ear, her breath wispy and cool. "I want Sammy" she spoke the name with a shiver of anticipation. John expected to feel enraged, horrified, something. But the truth was, he felt tired. Tired and grieving and miserable. "Okay" the word slipped from him before he could truly process the situation, or at least that was what he told himself. 

The demon let out a screech of joy smashed her lips against his. He flailed his arms and tried to pull apart, but she stuck her tongue in his mouth and held his face to hers. When she finally let him go, he stumbled back and spat. "What the fuck was that?" He asked in subdued anger. She shrugged nonchalantly, though her bounciness gave away her exhilaration. "That's how you seal a demon deal, baby" she replied. John paled and felt his heart drop. His heart sped up and pounded uncomfortably within him. "Wait, what? No, no, I-I don't know why I said that. I don't want this, you can't have Sam!" John yelled. What had he done? No, this couldn't be happening. The demon's smile didn't falter. "The deal is done. When you get home, dearest Mary will be waiting for you and Sam will be in good hands. Well...maybe not GOOD, but hey, what else can you expect from a demon? Oh, by the way, I'm sort of following orders that go against another demon's and I'd rather not have any trouble, so be a dear and don't mention me or this deal if you come across one of us, 'kay?" She giggled and vanished into the night.

John blinked and drove home numbly. As promised, Mary was waiting for him alive and well with Dean. 

\------------------------------------------------------------

Demon's were lying bitches. John had learned this long ago. Not even a year after he had made the horrible deal had Mary been slaughtered with a note repeating the same words the crossroads demon had spoken to him, "what else can you expect from a demon?". After that, he snapped. Grief and guilt over what he did resided in him every day. So he killed. He learned of the supernatural and how to shut them up. He hunted and taught Dean his ways. Sometimes John couldn't tell the monster's he killed apart from himself. He would decapitate a vampire then look in the mirror and remind himself of Sam. He told himself that killing evil would make up for his sins, but deep down he knew he could never truly make up for handing his child over to pure evil. 

Another way of temporarily pushing down the guilt was to never let Dean forget Sam. Everywhere they went he brought along pictures of baby Sammy. There were some of Mary and Dean too, but he made it a point to   
Have Dean see it every now and then. When he was drunk or in an unnaturally good mood, he reminisced about Sam. There wasn't much to say considering that he had been so young, but he found ways to speak for hours about the child. Dean loved hearing about him as he was growing up. 

One night John had called his old friend, Bobby Singer, and had made the drunken confession of what happened to Sam. The man had hung up without another word and never called again. Dean, however, called Bobby at least once a month to catch up. There were times when Dean would ask Bobby if he wanted to speak to John, but the man always declined. Dean eventually gave up on asking why the two wouldn't talk to each other. John had brought Dean with him to visit with Ellen and Jo, but Ellen had pulled him aside later that night and revealed that Bobby had informed her of his demon deal. She wanted him gone by morning. Dean, tired of unanswered questions, had simply told Ellen to keep in touch and followed John out the door.

John's depression at losing his friends made him sloppy, careless. He was killed by a demon he was hunting when Dean was twenty one.

\---------------------------------------------------------- 

Dean was rolling up his clothes and stuffing them into a large duffel bag. He prodded his recently shredded shirt with his index finger and sighed. "Another one bites the dust" he whispered to himself. He chuckled for a moment before remembering that there was nobody around to hear him. He gazed at the nearly spotless motel room with only one, untouched bed. He shook his head and continued packing with a grim expression. He didn't often allow himself to think of anything other than demons and booze. And the occasional monster hunt, like this one. Ever since his dad had died three years ago, he felt more alone than ever. His hatred for demons had also sky rocketed. He found himself searching for demonic signs of activity more often.

Dean jumped when he heard his phone ringing. He swiped it up, his heart beating more forcefully than usual in anticipation of human contact. He felt pathetic about getting excited just because his phone rang. "Hello?" Dean greeted, awaiting a voice. It occurred to him that he should have checked the caller I.d. Damn, loneliness was screwing with him bad today. "Dean?" A deep, rough voice responded. Dean's lips split into a grin. He hadn't spoken to Bobby in months and he had been wondering what the man had been up to. "Hey, Bobby, what's up?" He asked with poorly masked enthusiasm. Bobby sighed into his phone. "A lot lately. Listen, I could use your help with something if you're up to it" he offered grimly. Dean's smile dropped in disappointment. "I wish I could, but I'm wrapping up a vampire nest job here" Dean informed the man solemnly. 

"Dean, this one's a biggie. I'll drop a hint about the nest to another hunter, you just get here ASAP." Bobby told him with his usual gruffness. Dean shifted the weight on his feet and considered this. "I'm already here, I've got this. Besides, I'm sure you'd rather work with someone more experienced" Dean nearly whispered. The truth was, he wanted nothing more than to see Bobby. He craved company in a way that tore at his sanity. "Boy, I'm not playing. It's a demon case, ya idjit. This is getting freaky and I need someone I can trust, not some stuck up hunter that won't play by my rules." Bobby growled impatiently. Dean's heart stopped beating for a moment. Dean couldn't deny it anymore, he was hung up on revenge when it came to demons. Those son's of bitches had taken every member of his family. Mom, Sam, dad. They had taken everything from him and now his favorite feeling in the world was gutting them. He found that he was never able to refuse a good demon case.

Dean wet his lips and narrowed his eyes in thought. "Be there as soon as I can. See yah, Bobby." He ended the call and immediately finished packing. He loaded his car up and hit the road, his mind constantly returning to black eyes and sulfur. Yeah, maybe he had a problem, but it was his thirst for revenge that kept him going, and he would take what he got. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------

By the time Dean's sleek impala pulled into Bobby's, it was well past midnight. The muddied and torn up cars were illuminated by the blinding headlights. Dean pulled the keys from the ignition and rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand. With a grunt, he tiredly exited the car and sauntered to the front door. He nearly froze when his sight caught a shadowed figure on the porch, but his muscles un-tensed when his vision adjusted to the dark and he realized it was just Bobby. Damn, if he waited up for him, this must have been a hell of a case. Dean almost shuddered at the thought of what could keep Bobby Singer up all night. With an exasperated sigh, Dean stomped up the porch steps and the large hunter pulled him into a bear hug. Dean slapped Bobby's back and pulled apart.

"Good to see ya, Bobby" Dean said sincerely with a relaxed, lazy smile. Bobby nodded once and smirked warmly. "You too, boy. You don't come around enough" Bobby chided affectionately. Dean found himself being guided inside, the creaky door clicking shut behind him. Bobby huffed exhaustedly. Now that Dean could see his features, Bobby looked wrecked. His eyes, which had unnaturally dark rings around them, were practically fighting to stay open and his skin was too pale. Dean felt his face contort to one of worry and discomfort. "Woah, what happened? Did you break up with sleep or something?" Dean's words were meant to be humorous, but his tone was a bit frantic. Bobby scoffed at him. "Relax, ya mother hen. I've just been up researching night and day." Bobby waved away Dean's concern. Dean forced himself to shrug calmly, but he made a mental note to bring up Bobby's lack of sleep later.

"Alright, you ready to see what we're working with?" Dean's brow drew together in confusion. "Wait, you mean you've already GOT the demon?" Dean asked with a lack of comprehension. "Yup. Some hunter called me up saying he caught him, but there were some...complications." Bobby grumbled vaguely. Dean's eyebrows shot up. What "complications" were there when it came to demons? You sprayed them with a little holy water, got whatever useful information you could out of them, then sent them back to hell. It was even TOO simple sometimes. "Like?" Dean pried. Bobby sighed in defeat to Dean's curiosity and spilled everything he knew. "It can't be exorcised." Bobby began. "It also takes a hell of a lot of holy water to make it do more than twitch. It's all just...odd. The damn thing is something I've never seen before." Dean took in the information, his mind rummaging through everything he knew about demons.

"Did you check for any marks that could mean it locked itself in the body?" Dean asked suggestively. Bobby nodded. "Hmm" Dean ran his hand threw his hair. "I don't know. Did you get anything out of it?" Dean wondered. "Nothin'. The thing just laughed and tried to toy with me. Normal demon shit." He complained irritatedly. Dean bit his lip in thought. "Alright, let's see it" he suggested to Bobby. He had to admit, he needed a good challenge. He grinned in anticipation. Bobby gestured to the stairs to the basement with his hand. Dean lead the way down the narrow staircase and turned into a large, nearly empty room. All it contained was a red devil's trap in the middle of the floor with a slumped figure duct taped and chained to a wooden chair inside it, and a plain, metal table with several jugs of holy water and a few industrial sized containers of salt resting on it.

As Dean entered the room, the figure became clearer. It was a man, probably early twenties. His head was bent forward and covered with thick, light brown hair that dangled around his ears. He wore casual blue jeans and a thin, black t-shirt. His limbs were long and gangly and his hands were bound behind him. Dean noted that the duct tale had seemingly demonic symbols drawn on it with black sharpie. The demon lifted its head slowly to reveal blossoms of several bruises swelling the skin and a busted lip. It's eyes were blacker than the sky outside and it's lips were smirking. "Back for more? Good, I was getting bored" it commented with only a hint of sarcasm. The man's voice was low and slightly cracking, but from likely having salt repeatedly poured down it. 

Dean turned and addressed Bobby. "Hey, I'll interrogate for a while. Why don't you hit the hay?" Dean suggested near pleadingly. Bobby hesitated for a moment, his eyes glancing back at the demon. "Relax, I've got him. He's not going nowhere." Dean assured him with a caring smile. Bobby nodded and patted Dean on the back thankfully before heading upstairs. When Dean heard the door close, he moved to the table and picked up a jug of holy water. He casually walked around to face the demon again. "Why can't you be exorcised?" Dean demanded emotionlessly. The demon blinked at him and his grin widened to reveal straight teeth, his eyes remaining black. "You wouldn't like the answer very much. It's not too helpful." He shrugged. Dean uncapped the jug and jerked his wrist to spill some on the demon's face. He winced slightly, but no steam or even redness of the skin. Narrowing his eyes, Dean stood over the demon and slowly tilted it forward. 

"Last chance." Dean warned as he dangled the jug from his hand. The demon narrowed his eyes back. "There will be plenty more chances. Trust me, I know how this goes." He assured Dean. Dean turned down his lips and shrugged a shoulder carelessly. He spilled forward the jug and the water continuously splashed onto the demon's face. The demon grimaced and shrank away from the water, eventual steam rising from his face and his head whipping side to side attempting to escape it. He let out a gurgling scream, but Dean continued pouring. When the jug was emptied, he shook it once and threw it to the side. The demon was soaked and shivering. Dean's brow drew together at an odd sound and he leaned closer to the demon. It took a moment to realize that the thing was whimpering. It was actually WHIMPERING like a hurt person would

Dean threw his head back into a mad, howling laugh and had to wipe tears from his eyes. "You are the most pathetic demon I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot. You ain't hard to crack at all. Damn, I was looking for a good puzzle, but you're nothing. I'll have everything out of you by morning." Dean spoke confidently once he caught his breath. The demon lifted its head again, his expression pained. Dean pulled a metal folding chair out from the edge of the room and drug it in front of the devil's trap. Dean lounged in it and sighed. "So, since we have so much time together, let's get things warmed up by getting to to know each other. Why don't you tell me your life story? I'll even take the gory little details." Dean suggested. Even though the pain was real enough, Dean had been bluffing. He knew the thing wouldn't just talk after a little torture, Bobby had tested that theory for days and nothing. 

The Demon scoffed and stared Dean down persistently. Dean stretched his arm out and began reaching for the salt, his eyes remaining on the demon. "Why don't we start with a name?" He suggested intimidatingly. The demon eyed the salt, possibly contemplating if a name would give too much away. After waiting several seconds for it to speak, Dean stood and picked one of the salt containers up. He pulled a pocket knife out of his jacket with his free hand and flipped it open. Without a moment of hesitation, he sliced a deep cut in the demon's lower arm. He grunted and clenched his hands into fists. Dean shook some salt into his hand and set down the container. He cupped it into his palm and quickly pressed it into the bleeding cut. The demon moaned in pain, but kept calm. "Name?" Dean pried. The demon clenched his jaw and flared his nostrils. Dean turned back to the table and rubbed his hands together mischievously. "Sam." A quiet, reluctant voice said behind him.

Dean was overcome with rage. This was the worst kind of irony. Demons had taken his little brother away, and now he was interrogating the same kind of monster with the same name. Dean twisted around and slammed his fist into the demon's jaw. It's head snapped to the side and it blinked its eyes blearily several times. "None of you bastards should be able to even speak that name" Dean growled. The demon breathed raggedly and glared at him. "I'm guessing I'm not the first Sam in your life" the demon (Sam) spat angrily. Dean forced himself to wear a facade of ease and coolness. "No." Dean answered emotionlessly. He took a moment of deep breaths to truly calm himself. He was surprised when Sam spoke. "I already told your friend the truth. It's not my fault if he doesn't believe me." He said. Dean sunk back into his chair and eyed Sam curiously. "Wanna share this truth with me?" He suggested with a dark undertone. Having discovered the thing's name, Dean suddenly wasn't in the mood to investigate. The sooner this was over, the better. 

Sam adjusted himself and his brow drew together. He blinked and the black retreated from his eyes. The natural hazel watched Dean warily. "I'm not like other demons" Sam muttered in an unsure voice. "Obviously" Dean agreed with an irritated eye roll. He crossed his arms impatiently. "Well for starters, I never died." Sam scanned Dean for his reaction like he expected this to come as a shock. What the hell was he talking about? Of course he didn't die, he was still here, wasn't he? "And?" Dean stretched the word out uncomprehendingly. Sam blinked at him confusedly. "Do you know ANYTHING about demons?" Sam questioned sarcastically. His lips twitched like he was holding back a laugh. Dean took out his pocket knife and twirled it in his fingers warningly. Sam gulped and glared at Dean. "They were once human. When souls go to hell, they're tortured for as long as it takes for them to be twisted enough to become demons." Sam explained slowly.

Dean ran his hands threw his hair nervously with wide eyes. "Holy shit" he whispered. If he ended up going to hell when he died...he would become a fucking demon. There would be no avoiding it. "Shit" he muttered. Dean's stomach was dropping to the point where he felt nauseous. What the hell, why didn't any other hunters know about this? This was huge. Dean considered sprinting from the room and revealing the new information to Bobby, but what would be the point? The man needed sleep and finding out something like this wouldn't help. Dean turned his eyes back to Sam, who was staring at him in a way that made Dean's skin crawl. He admitted it, demons freaked him out...possibly even more after what he now knew.

"Okay...if you never went to hell, how are you a demon?" Dean interrogated, getting back to business. "I was fed demon blood when I was six months old. Apparently, my mother had sold my free will to a demon for my father to come back to life." Sam began the story with a sneer. Dean didn't let his shock show on his face. What kind of parents would sell their kid to a demon? Sam continued with a horrifyingly steady voice, his eyes boring into Dean's viciously. "Then big daddy Azazel, the demon that fed me his blood, killed my mother. Apparently my father didn't know about about her deal, but decided to make his own to bring her back to life. How poetic. This demon was going against Azazel's orders and asked for me in return for resurrecting her." Sam hesitated and swallowed, his expression hiding something deeper than sarcasm and hatred. Before Dean could identify it, Sam's face contorted to show a cold smirk. 

"After less than a year, the same demon slaughtered her for fun. Not that I minded, that woman sold me to monsters. That's the end of what I know about my old family. Anyways, I was raised by demons and fed their blood regularly until I became one. Then they dropped me on the side of the road and told me to have fun. And you can bet your ass I did." Sam concluded with a malicious grin on his face. Dean found himself having unwanted sympathy for the demon. "So that explains why the salt and holy water aren't as effective as with other demons I guess. You're more human than them." Dean deduced. Sam nodded. "And I can't be exorcised because I'm not possessing anyone. This is all me." He added with a bit of grimness. Dean huffed frustratedly. He wasn't sure where to take things from here. "So how come Bobby didn't believe you?" Dean asked.

Sam avoided eye contact. "He didn't give me time to explain. I told him the short version to...make him stop...but he thought it was bullshit." Sam mumbled some of the words and slightly shrunk away from Dean. In that moment, he didn't look like a demon. He looked like a traumatized kid that had assholes for parents and was cursed before he could even speak. Dean had to physically hold himself back from setting a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder and telling him that it wasn't his fault. He had to remind himself that this was no human, this was a demon. The same thing that killed his whole family. "How old are you?" The words slipped from Dean's mouth unintentionally. Sam appeared just as shocked by the question as Dean. "Twenty...does it matter?" Sam wondered suspiciously. Shit. This really was just a kid. Most demon's Dean came across were ancient and had buckets of blood on their hands that they proudly flaunted. "You ever killed anyone?" Dean asked. Sam appeared flustered by the question. He averted his eyes to the ground and pinched his lips together.

"Son of a bitch. You haven't, have you?" Dean exclaimed in disbelief. Never before had Dean seen a demon that hadn't killed. "Only demons" Sam answered uncomfortably. They sat for a moment in silence. The only noise was the sound of Sam shifting in the chains. Dean watched in slightly horrified fascination as the fresh cut on Sam's arm almost completely healed itself. Dean only now noticed that all of the bruises on his face, with the exception of the new one on his jaw, were completely gone. "So...what now?" Sam was finally looking straight at Dean. "Huh?" The question caught him off guard. Sam casually shifted his eyes. "What happens now? More torture? Test for ways to kill me? Pass me off to another hunter? I told you, I know how this goes. I just never know which comes next. I've gone through a lot of captors." Sam clarified with a casual shrug. Dean was disturbed by the words immensely. Sam patiently watched Dean awaiting his reply. "I-I don't know? I mean...if you haven't really done anything wrong..I don't know yet. I'll talk to Bobby about it." Dean answered confidently.

He stood to leave, but paused when Sam spoke. "Is that your friend's name?" Sam asked curiously. Dean turned and noted that Sam appeared surprised at his own conversational words. "Umm...yeah. That's him." Dean replied before turning back. "I'm Dean by the way" he said over his shoulder before calmly walking out of the room and up the stairs.

\------------------------------------------------


	2. Chapter 2

\------------------------------------------------

Dean was pacing the kitchen, unsure of what to do with himself, when Bobby walked in and poured himself a cup of coffee. Dean joined him at the table. "how'd it go?" Bobby asked tiredly. Dean fidgeted with his coat sleeve. He wasn't sure how Bobby would react to Sam's full story, seeing as he didn't believe it last time. "Well, apparently he already told you why he couldn't be exorcised." Dean said pointedly. Bobby gave him an incredulous look. "Do you know WHAT he told me? He said that he's not full demon, Dean. He said he would "still be human" if he hadn't been sold. Can you blame me for not believing him?" Bobby explained. Dean shrugged and drooped his eyes. "He told me the full story and...well I'm not saying I believe him, but you should hear it." Dean said. Bobby gestured with his hand for Dean to go on. Dean took a deep breath and repeated Sam's story.

When Dean finished, Bobby's face was pale and his expression bewildered. "Bobby?" Dean addressed him with worry. He knew the demon origin story was pretty bad, but the man looked like he was about to be sick. "Can't be..." He mumbled under his breath. His eyes were swiveling all around the table and he appeared to be deep in thought. "Bobby, you alright?" Dean asked. Bobby looked Dean in the eye and suddenly appeared guilty. "I don't know if you'll wanna hear this..." He vaguely stated. Dean leaned forward. "Tell me" he requested with a stone cold expression. Bobby rubbed his eyes with his fingers tiredly. "John called me up one night drunk as hell-" Bobby began reluctantly. "Wait-what does my dad have to do with this?" Dean interrupted. Bobby scolded him and Dean bit his lip.

"Anyways" Bobby continued somberly. "He made a confession to me that to be honest I would have rather not known. Said it was eating him alive and he had to tell someone." Bobby gave Dean a sympathetic look. "Any day now" Dean moaned impatiently. "You watch your tone, boy. This ain't a fun story to tell." Bobby snapped at him. Dean leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. Bobby's expression turned darker than Dean had ever seen it and he suddenly he didn't think hearing this story was such a great idea. "John told me that he...he lied about Sam. He said that a week after your mom died, he went to a crossroads demon...and he made a deal." Bobby halted slowly, the strain on his face telling Dean that he was hoping he would see where this was going and catch on. "No..." Dean denied the information confidently and shook his head slowly.

"No, my dad did NOT sell Sam." Dean declared angrily, his voice rising in pitch. Bobby laced his fingers together. "Dean, he admitted to it...and then he said that a little less than a year later, Mary was killed...with a note repeating the crossroad demon's words. It matches the dem-SAM'S story perfectly." Bobby concluded with a grimace. At this point Dean's hands were shaking and there were unshed tears in his eyes. He stood and slammed his palms down on the table. He searched for the right words, but there were none. He had no counter argument for this. This was no debate, it was the cold hard truth that he was receiving, and he didn't know what to do with it. "That demon in there is not my brother. Sam is dead." Dean's voice cracked. His head was spinning. He groped for the chair and held onto it like it was his lifeline. His knuckles turned white, but his grip wouldn't loosen. "I don't get it. My dad was always talking about Sam, always saying how much he missed him and that he would one day find the demon that killed him" Dean said.

Bobby shrugged. "He felt guilty for what he did. I guess he wanted to make up for it." Bobby rationalized. Dean nodded in agreement. "And this is why you stopped talking to him." Dean commented. "Yup. I just couldn't be friendly with a man that sold his kid to demons." Bobby explained near apologetically. Dean was sickened with the information. He had always seen his father in the spotlight of heroism. He had looked up to and admired the man. Now he could see him as little more than cruel. Why had the demon even wanted Sam in the first place? What was gained from turning an innocent kid into a demon? Dean's mind was a storm of scattered thoughts and confusion. Okay, so the brother he had thought was dead almost all of his life was actually alive and a...demon. Not to mention that apparently demons were just twisted human souls. And his dad made a demon deal for his wife to come back to life and he sold his baby. Yeah, he was completely fine. Nothing fucked up about this day at all.

"What are we gonna do with him?" Bobby piped up with the question. Dean was confounded by this. "Why are you asking me?" He threw back at the man. Bobby lifted an eyebrow. "He's YOUR brother, not mine" Bobby answered honestly. Dean knew he was right. Sam wasn't his responsibility, he was Dean's now. Dean thought this over for a moment. What the hell are you supposed to do when you are reunited with your long lost demon brother? And said demon doesn't know he's your brother? Sam had never killed anyone before...but he was still a demon. "I guess I'll...talk to him." Dean announced apprehensively. Bobby blinked at him and cocked his head to the side. "What are you planning on saying?" He asked. Dean gave him a long look and the silence seemed to speak better than his words could. Basically, he had no fucking clue. Bobby nodded encouragingly and Dean slowly made his way to the stairs.

He turned into the basement and scanned Sam. Messy, brown hair, hazel eyes, tattered, black t-shirt, nothing had changed. Nothing except that Dean now knew he was looking at his brother, not just a demon. He found himself searching for any signs of resemblance to himself. He sat into the metal folding chair with a straight back and stiff muscles. He was the definition of tenseness. Sam gave him an odd, questioning look. It took Dean a moment to snap out of it and realize that he was staring. "So-uh-um good news is that we believe you a-about your story." Dean sputtered awkwardly. Sam watched him tentatively. "What's the bad news?" He asked with guarded caution. His eyes seemed to express anxiety and trepidation. Shit, he thought Dean was gonna torture him again. Dean huffed in surprise at his thoughts. Well, at least he knew torture was something he definitely did NOT want to do now. 

Dean scratched the back of his head nervously. As to why he was nervous, he didn't have a clue. "It's...well it's...know what? Don't worry about it." Dean stuttered. Maybe he would wait a while to tell Sam the truth. Sam's chest was inflating with shallow, quick breaths that were putting Dean on edge. "Hey, it's okay, man. I'm not gonna hurt you." Dean reassured him. Sam's face scrunched together in confusion. "Why are you talking to me like that?" He asked in an odd, almost childlike in the wonder that it contained, voice. The reluctant hope in the question warmed Dean to his core and gave him a sense of contentedness. "Like what?" He wondered. Sam swallowed and turned his eyes to the floor. "Like a person." He answered miserably. Dean's lips slowly fell into a concerned frown. Sam hadn't asked for any of this. He didn't ask for demon blood, he didn't ask to be sold, he didn't ask to be a demon.

The way Sam held his head low and welcomed his shaggy hair to shroud his features filled Dean with the urge to put an end to every hunter that tortured, beat, or even fucking looked it him wrong. That was when it hit Dean. HE had tortured Sam earlier that night. HE had laughed at Sam when he expressed that he was in pain. HE had punched Sam just for saying his name. Every instinct he had told him that Sam was evil, but there was something even deeper and older inside of him fighting to protect the innocent demon. Guilt flooded him and suddenly he had a mere glimpse at the feeling that must have clawed away at his father for years, not that the man didn't deserve a much worse fate. "But that's the thing. I WASNT treating you like a person. I'm sorry." Dean apologized as sincerely and heartfelt as he was capable of. Sam's head shot up and he eyed Dean like he belonged in a padded room. "I'm a monster. Hunters kill monsters. You aren't supposed to be sorry for torturing me. You're supposed to beat the hell out of me to take out your anger at not being able to get rid of me. And then you're supposed to pass me off to another hunter." Sam lectured Dean like a child that lacked common knowledge, but his lips were twitching and his eyes were filling up with unshed tears. Dean's heart clenched at the words. 

"You may be a demon, but you're no monster. I've seen monsters, killed too many of them to count, but you? You're innocent. I never imagined meeting a clean demon, but here you are. I just wish I would have known that before..." Dean cast his eyes down in shame. It was hard as hell to believe, but he somehow knew that Sam was not evil. He only hoped that he wasn't just looking for the best in his blood because if Sam was lying and he did in fact kill, they would have a problem. Sam watched him in disbelief that seemed to hide just a hint of gratefulness. Dean blinked several times and yawned, his exhaustion from the lack of sleep finally catching up to him like the pestering bitch it was. Sam turned his head and looked around the room even though he had been there for days. His eyelids sluggishly drooped closed and his head began leaning forward as he nodded off. Dean cleared his throat deeply and Sam shot up. His eyes snapped open.

"So, uh, what kind of music do you like?" Dean questioned uncomfortably. Sam lifted his shoulders in a tired shrug and fought to keep his eyes opened. "Kinda hard to give a shit about music when you spend your whole life running from hunters and avoiding demons." Sam said with a kind of resigned anger. Dean pressed his lips together. It seemed a normal conversation wasn't an option. "If you aren't torturing me, why are you down here? I obviously can't escape or I would have already. No need to keep an eye on me." Sam explained in a rush if words. Dean sighed and allowed his eyes to slip closed. "You ever heard of the Winchesters?" Dean asked softly. Sam was already suspicious about the way Dean was treating him, might as well just come out with it. "Most of us have" Sam answered obviously. Dean managed a dry chuckle. "Wanna take a stab at my last name?" He offered sarcastically. After a moment Dean heard an audible gasp of discovery and a sharp click. He opened his eyes to see Sam cowering away from him the best he could in the chains with a haunted expression and demonic, black eyes. His face was pale and he was breathing hard. 

"Dean Winchester" he whispered in response. Dean slouched in his chair casually. Okay, so to answer the question if demons were afraid of him, yes. "I already told you I'm not gonna hurt you." Dean reassured him steadily. Sam continued leaning as far away as he could with eery black eyes. Dean shrugged nonchalantly. "If you're afraid of Winchesters, you're gonna hate looking in the mirror real soon." Dean informed him cooly. Sam's eyebrows drew together and his nose scrunched up in an expression of poorly concealed confusion; however, his hardly defensive position remained the same. Dean leaned forward and Sam visibly flinched. Dean slowly propped his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. "Listen, Your family, do you know anything else about them?" He asked. Sam eyed Dean suspiciously for a moment then shook his head minutely. Dean had no idea how to make Sam believe him about all of this when he barely believed it himself. "I guess it's my turn for a story." He stated darkly. "When I was just a kid, I had a little brother. He was a little over six months old when my dad told me he was killed by demons...except that he wasn't. See, my mom had just died and he..." Dean's throat closed up at the thought of his father at a crossroads selling his kid.

He looked down and continued. "He made a deal to bring her back to life. He sold his youngest son and a little while later, my mom was killed by the same crossroads demon. My little brother's name was-is-Sam." Dean finished. He flicked his eyes up to Sam, who was glaring at him and his lips were twitching convulsively. He still appeared afraid and his eyes were black, but he was staring right at Dean when he muttered "bullshit."


	3. Chapter 3

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Dean sighed irritatedly and wiped his face with his hand. "You don't believe me." He said. Sam tilted his head lower and narrowed his eyes dangerously. "John Winchester was not my father." He denied determinately. "Why's this so hard for you to believe?!" Dean snapped. Sam's black eyes widened. "Because I grew up being taught how horrible the Winchester's are!" Sam yelled angrily. Dean snorted and stood, his fists balling together. "Yeah? And what do you think I was taught!? I was raised killing demons just like you, and my dad always went on about what soulless dicks they were!" Dean spat. Sam recoiled and clenched his jaw. He flicked his eyes away from Dean, his lips pressing together. "What, did I hurt your feelings? Demons don't like being called dicks, huh?" Dean mocked. Sam continued looking away. "I have a soul." He stated quietly. Dean wet his lips and slouched back into his chair. "Look, I didn't mean it like that...but I have no reason to lie to you about this, man..." He said softly. Sam slowly turned his head back to Dean. "You sure about this?" He asked almost timidly. Dean nodded soberly. 

Sam took a sharp intake of breath and blinked. Normal, human eyes met Dean's. Sam flipped his hair out of his eyes uncomfortably. "So you're my brother, huh?" He said. "Yup." Dean answered. They observed each other curiously. "What does this mean?" Sam asked seriously. His tone was grave and hopeless. Dean blinked at him. "It means we should look a lot more alike." He replied simply. Sam shot him an unamused bitch face. "What does it mean FOR ME?" He emphasized. "Oh..." Dean dropped his eyes to his hands. This was something he was still debating. Yes, Sam WAS his blood, but he wasn't family. He was a demon that Dean had just met. He couldn't cut Sam loose and expect him to behave, but if the guy was innocent he couldn't just let him rot in Bobby's basement. "I don't know." He answered honestly. Sam nodded and watched Dean apprehensively. "I never imagined I would be sitting in front of a Winchester...I definitely hoped I never would, but...to find out that I'm one..." He gave a strained expression and shook his head. "I don't really know what I'm trying to say...I guess I just...hope you're not like how demons made you out to be." Sam concluded. Dean leaned back and stretched. 

"What did they say about me?" He asked curiously. Sam grimaced and looked away. "They said that you and your dad started out killing demons, but then turned to torture. They said you would skin one of us and then stuff it down our throats. There was one that you injected gallons of holy water into a demon's veins. Eventually rumors turned into story's and you and your dad became legends. It was said that when a Winchester got you, you were done for. Basically you two are the stuff of nightmares." Sam answered with a slightly shaking voice. Dean found himself perching on the edge of his chair, his face contorted to one of horror and wonder. "So basically I could scare the shit out of any demon I wanted?" He asked. Sam shrugged. "Basically. With a few exceptions." Sam confirmed. 

Dean slouched in disappointment. "Who are these "exceptions?"" He asked bitterly. "The big bad's. Azazel, Lillith, Alastair, guys like them." Sam answered. A pained expression, that Dean almost missed, flashed across his face. "Hmm." Dean crossed his arms. "So I'm guessing you're not on the list of super demons" He assumed steadily. Sam raised his eyebrows a bit. "I'm kind of an odd case." He replied. "How so?" Dean asked. Sam barked a sharp, sarcastic laugh. "Do you seriously have to ask that? To add on to the fact that I'm in my original body and can't be exorcised, I just found out I'm technically a Winchester. Not to mention all of the other little things that set me apart. Some demons are afraid of me, some go as far as wanting me to be a part of Hell's ruling, and a lot think I'm an abomination." He answered confidently. Dean's eyebrows pulled together. "What little things?" He asked. Sam swallowed and blinked a few times. "Nothing. Forget it." He said shortly.

"Still don't trust me, huh?" Dean adjusted his seating and stared Sam in the eye. Sam raised his chin in response. Dean gave his best look of understanding. "I get it. Big bad Winchester." Dean commented with a falsely satisfied smirk. The truth was, he was unfairly curious about Sam. He was something that Dean didn't know even existed. Dean yawned and blearily pulled his eyelids apart. "I'm gonna call it a night." He announced. "O-okay..." Sam responded confusedly. Now that Dean thought about it, Sam probably wasn't very used to his captors being anywhere near friendly. Dean turned and sluggishly made his way upstairs. On his way up the sound of Sam groaning followed him. What was going on with him? Dean thought this over on the way to his room. Only minutes after collapsing into bed, he fell asleep.

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When Dean woke, it was noon and harsh sunlight was streaming into the room. He grunted and rubbed at his eye with his fingers. It took him a moment to process that he was at Bobby's, and it took even longer to remember why. "Shit..." He mumbled as the memories trickled back. He groaned and slammed his head back down onto his pillow. Dean blinked several times and delayed the inevitable. He was gonna have to figure out what to do with Sam eventually. Bobby was the most generous man Dean knew, but there was no way he was gonna let Dean keep his newly discovered demon brother in his basement forever. What the hell was Dean supposed to do though? He covered his eyes with the palms of his hands and wished for just a few more hours of sleep. Knowing that anxiety would keep him up until he reached a point of exhaustion again, Dean gave in and sat up. He swung his legs over the bed and stood while stretching his arms over his head.

He shuffled over to the door and grumpily turned the knob. He walked slowly to the stairs and descended into the dark basement. Dean pulled out his folding chair and planted himself into it. He shivered at the coldness, but shook it off. Sam's head was slumped forward, his neck hanging in what looked like a severely uncomfortable position. "Sun's up, sunshine. Wakey wakey." He announced in a faked cheerful voice. Sam gave a low groan and remained still. Dean leaned forward in his chair worriedly. "Sam?" He said the name with increasing unease. This time Sam lifted his head a bit. "What's wrong?" Dean asked with as much calm as he could muster. Sam tilted his head back so that it was resting against the back of his chair. Dean quickly sucked in air at Sam's appearance. His skin was slicked over with a coating of sweat, there were red rings around his eyes, and his lips were cracking with dryness. "What the hell happened to you?" Dean asked sympathetically. Sam parted his lips to speak, but his face contorted to one of severe pain. His eyes squeezed shut and he gasped.

His body convulsed for a second and Sam released a huff of air. A dry whimper clawed up his throat and Dean felt the urge to cover his ears at the horrible sound. Sam opened his eyes jerkily to reveal, yet again, that they had turned black. Dean almost jumped reflexively at the sight. "R-remember when I-I told you-" He was cut off by a wet sounding cough. He took a breath and continued. "That I was fe-fed demon blood regularly?" He finished slowly. "Yeah..." Dean answered uncomprehendingly. He couldn't find any connection to Sam's sick appearance and demon blood. Sam visibly swallowed and clenched his eyes shut again. "Before I turned d-demon, I became addict-ted to the stuff. I thought it would go away, but it never did." He said with a cracking, sore voice. Dean was confounded. How could someone get addicted to demon blood??? And still, what did this have to do with anything? "What?" Dean asked confusedly. Sam licked his dry lips. "I've been here for days...been t-too long since 've had some." He explained with a grimace. The words were thickly coated with guilt and disgust, yet they were laced with deep longing.

Dean went over the situation in his head and he was struck with understanding. "This is some kind of withdrawal?" He exclaimed incredulously. Sam nodded miserably. Dean rubbed his neck with his hand. He could feel a headache forming. "Fuck." He said sharply. The chains rattled as Sam shifted uncomfortably. He opened his eyes and with a burst of sudden energy, swiveled them all around the room. "Need it...please, j-just let me get some...I'll come back, please." Sam begged desperately. Dean crossed his arms and bit his bottom lip. The black slipped away from Sam's eyes and what was left were abnormally dilated pupils hiding most of the irises. He gazed at Dean pleadingly and jerked his upper body against the chains. "No way. I'm not getting you you're next fix." Dean said sternly. Sam's eyes began tearing up and he sniffled. "You don't have to. I'll do it myself then come right back." Sam assured him quickly.

"Nope." Dean denied him with a facade of relaxation. Sam's muscles tensed and he threw his head back. He grunted in pain. "Please!" He yelled with a gritty whine. Dean simply ignored the plea and considered gagging Sam so he couldn't be too loud. All of a sudden Sam's body slumped, his head still thrown back. He coughed once and brought his head forward. His eyes were looking down and there was a slightly horrified expression on his face. "Sorry..." He whispered sheepishly. "You done?" Dean asked patiently. Sam nodded wearily. "So let me get this straight, you're a demon that is addicted to demon blood?" He clarified. Sam nodded again and somehow appeared even more guilty. "You ever nawed on yourself?" Dean wondered curiously. Sam looked Dean in the eye and nodded despairingly. Dean raised his eyebrows. "Damn." Sam lowered his head and took deep breaths. "You've never tried to get clean after all of these years?" Dean asked. "I have tried. I'm not-I can't do it." He responded gravely. "Well I'd say being chained up in a devil's trap might help out." Dean assured.

Sam shook his head. "You don't understand." He told Dean. "What I understand is that I'm not keeping a blood junkie around. No more of that shit." Dean said. Sam froze for a moment. "Keeping around?" He repeated Dean's words as a question. "Yeah. I've been thinking of you almost my whole life. I'm not gonna lose you over a pair of black eyes, no matter how disturbing." Dean stated with a steady voice. Sam lifted his head. "Not even a demon blood addiction is enough to scare you away?" Sam asked shakily. Dean smirked and for the first time in too long, there was affection in it. The fact that the affection was for a demon that was actually his long lost brother was kind of fucked up, but didn't "fucked up" pretty much describe his life? "We're gonna get you clean, Sam. And who knows? Maybe when it's done and over with, I'll bring you a beer." Dean said. Sam's lips pulled into a reluctant half smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the sudden twist in plot. I wanted sam and Dean to have something to bond over, but this isn't the whole story


	4. Chapter 4

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Dean had been in the basement with Sam for almost a full day while he went through withdrawal. The only times he took breaks were to eat and use the bathroom. Bobby had been just as shocked as Dean at the discovery of Sam's "problem". For hours Dean had been doing his best to keep Sam quiet and keep somewhat of a conversation going. The only problem was that Sam was puking all over himself, and as much as Dean tried, holding a bowl in front of him wasn't working. So now Dean resided several feet away from the devil's trap watching Sam in misery. His eyes were slightly glazed over and he was continuously swallowing. "How're you holding up?" Dean asked knowingly. "I'd be a lot better if you'd let me get what I need." Sam answered hopelessly. Dean had heard the same response worded differently several times now. "What's the longest you've gotten through with this? I wanna get an idea of how long this lasts." Dean asked almost business like. Sam blinked and kept his eyes locked over Dean's shoulder. "I got clean once. The withdrawal lasted 'bout two days." He answered dryly.

Dean almost did a double take. "You've already-what? Then why the hell are you pumped full of demon blood again?!" Dean's voice rose angrily. He felt like a fucking disappointed parent. Sam's eyes swelled with tears and he pressed his lips together. "I slipped." He answered simply. His voice cracked despairingly. Dean felt a prick of sympathy. "Alright, so we're half way done. No big deal." Dean said casually. "It gets bad." Sam told him darkly. Not knowing how to respond to this, Dean fidgeted with his hands. How did this go from helping Bobby with a demon case to babysitting a detoxing addict? "You can leave if you want...I mean, this isn't the most fun place to be right now." Sam nearly whispered with his shattering voice. "Nah, I'm here till the end. Besides, Bobby would just make me do research or something if I went upstairs." Dean replied lightly. Sam nodded acceptingly and they sat in silence. Dean considered getting a beer or three. If being down here was gonna be this boring, he might as well have some booze. "Please don't" Sam cried out suddenly. "Huh?" Dean looked up to see Sam's eyes growing wide and tracking something moving progressively closer to him. Dean stood and neared him. "What is it?" He asked. Sam flinched and kept his eyes on the empty air. 

"Pl-please, don't!" Sam yelled, his body tensing and fighting the chains. "No!" He screamed with a tear slipping down his cheek. He whipped his head to the side and made strangled gasping noises. "Sam!" Dean snapped and kneeled down in front of his chair. "Stop! Please, please, stop! Don't make m-" he thrashed in the chair and began choking. He sobbed and whimpered with his mouth clenched shut. His chest hitched several times before he gasped for breath and hung his head. Dean wrapped his hands around Sam's shoulders. "What the hell was that about?" He asked. Sam 's body shook under Dean's hands. "H-hallucination." He answered. Dean could tell that he was holding back the sobs. "Hallucination..." He repeated back. Sam twitched in what Dean supposed was meant to be a nod. "I told you this isn't a fun place to be right now." Said Sam pointedly. Dean returned to his seat and caught his breath. "What were you seeing?" Dean asked with more than a hint of worry. Sam watched Dean calculatingly through his mop of hair.

"I was reliving after I got clean and a couple of demons forced their blood down my throat." He answered with a disgusted grimace. Dean found himself crossing his arms. "You said you slipped." He said accusingly, but with an undertone of grief for the demon. Sam shrugged carelessly. "Demons lie." He stated Dean watched him sadly. He didn't know how to help him through this in any way other than being there.

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About an hour later, Sam started screaming. "Sam! SAM! It's not real! Calm down, man!" Dean yelled over him with a trembling voice. The screams were innocent and traumatized and pained. Dean was starting to wonder how his ears weren't bleeding yet. Dean was kneeling in front of Sam attempting to bring his attention back to reality. The sound of his ringtone bled through the horrid screeches. Dean stepped away and fumbled for his phone. He gripped it tightly in his hand and stepped outside of the basement. He slammed the door behind him and pressed the phone against his ear. "Hello?" His voice was scratchy from raising his voice over Sam's. "Dean" Bobby greeted with a worried voice. "What's all that hollerin' down there?" He asked. Dean sighed. "Sorry, Bobby, I've been trying to get him to stop, but...he's hallucinating. I don't know how to break through to him." Dean explained apologetically. Bobby released a breath through the phone. "I was startin' to think you were torturing him again." The man revealed with relief.

Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You would...care?" Dean asked slowly. "Boy, that may be a demon, but besides me, he's the closest you've got to family. I wanted to make sure you didn't do something you would regret." Said Bobby as his voice got progressively softer. "Thanks for everything, Bobby. I'll be out of your hair as soon as I can be." Dean assured with a smile in his voice. "Do you know what you're doing with him yet?" Bobby asked knowingly. "No. Not yet." Dean answered. "Than you're not leaving until we've got a plan." Bobby made his point smugly. "Got it. Things will be better when Sam's got all of that shit out of his system." Dean said confidently. A thought hit Dean. "Why did you call instead of coming down here?" He wondered with curiosity. The sound of movement muffled the receiver. "Well-I-I didn't want to-uhm-" Bobby stumbled over his words. Was Bobby embarrassed? Dean couldn't remember a time when he casually stuttered with nerves. He was always solid and confident. Everything he said was without question or debate.

"What is it?" Dean asked. "I...I tortured him for days, Dean. And he was innocent." Bobby said guiltily. "I figured we probably weren't on very good terms." He finished. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's okay, Bobby. You didn't know." Dean comforted him. It was then that it occurred to Dean that the screaming had stopped. "I gotta go, Bobby." Dean said quickly and hung up the phone.


End file.
